Swan Princess
by MirrorMyThoughts
Summary: In a desperate attempt to put as many leagues between themselves and Hook, Emma and her companions find themselves stumbling into Rothbart's territory; a crazy magician with a less than healthy obsession with swans.
1. Chapter 1

Swan Princess.

Summary: In a desperate attempt to put as many leagues between themselves and Hook, Emma and her companions find themselves stumbling into Rothbart's territory; a crazy magician with a less than healthy obsession with swans.

Pairings: Emma Swan/ Killian Jones (Captain Hook)

AN: This is a present for my little sister, as it's her birthday today. Therefore I apologize for any mistakes, as she'd usually my beta :P.. but this was a surprise... so I had to attempt the proof reading/editing myself... aha.. so um yeah, the mistakes are my own, and if you point them out, I'll get round to changing them :) ... also it was written at night, in a bit of a rush, so um, Sis... when you read this, I am sorry XD

~O~

"Come on, hurry." Emma urged, leading the group through the forest at an almost unreasonable speed.

Night was falling and Emma couldn't help but despair as she noted the ground they'd covered, it wouldn't be enough. There was barely enough light as it was, and she was more than aware of Aurora's increasingly frequent stumbles. The girl was exhausted, yet she hadn't complained- not once- since Emma set the ridiculous pace. Glancing back she winced, it wasn't just Aurora who was finding it difficult, both Mulan and Mary Margaret looked ready to drop and perhaps it was only the overwhelming fear of what would happen when Hook caught up with them that kept Emma from feeling it herself.

"Emma," Mary Margaret placed a hand on her shoulder, "We should stop for the night."

As much as Emma wanted to argue she knew Mary Margaret was right, to continue would be stupid and would most likely slow them down in the long run. However, it didn't stop a dead weight from settling in her stomach. She cast her gaze back at the skyline; she could still make out the faint shape of the beanstalk in the fading light. Would it be enough?

She wasn't even sure how long they'd been moving, everything here put her on edge and her sense of time was all over the place. Had the giant let Hook free yet? Had Hook made it down the beanstalk? He was one man, and a pirate to boot and she's seen the way he had eyed the compass. He was driven and she had no doubt he could cover ground far quicker than she and her companions could. Especially poor Aurora, from what they'd learned of her, the young woman hadn't had to exert herself for so much as a day in her life, and now they were dragging her all over the place, putting her in danger, for a cause she wasn't even personally tied too.

Emma felt a surge of affection for the strong willed princess and for Mulan as well- the two women had no need to accompany either herself or Mary Margaret, yet here they were, doing their best- _helping_…

"Okay, you're right…" She turned helplessly on the spot. The camping thing was still new to her, should they start a fire? Or would that draw some other dangerous creature to them?

Mulan, as if noticing her hesitation, instantly took control. "You should all get some rest, I'll find some firewood."

Emma shot her a grateful look and muttered her thanks as Mulan passed her. The warrior acknowledged the blondes words with an inclination of her head but otherwise brushed it off. Emma leant against the nearest tree allowed it to support her as she sunk to the floor.

"Oooh," She moaned quietly as she kicked off her shoes.

Aurora did the same against a nearby tree, while Mary Margaret cleared away a small patch of the forest floor and started to pile up some stones in preparation for the fire.

"So what do we do now?" Asked Aurora quietly, "We've got the compass, but don't we still need the dust Cora has? And how will we even get it to work?"

They were all valid questions- sensible questions- ones Emma didn't yet have the answer to.

Mary Margaret, thankfully, answered for her. "We find Cora and get the dust back, it doesn't matter that we don't yet know how to make it work- we can't risk Cora finding a way to the other world without the compass."

Emma did her best to ignore the tightening in her chest at the thought of Cora making it through to Storybrooke- to Henry. God, if anything happened to him-

"Mulan mentioned that the curse didn't destroy everyone- once we get the dust we'll just have to find someone who can get it to work. I refuse to believe the curse wiped out everyone… There must be at least one person powerful enough to help us." Mary Margaret continued.

"That's right; some parts of the land were left untouched." Mulan agreed as she caught the end of the conversation upon re-entered the clearing, her arms full of bits of wood and dry leaves. "And Hook-"

Emma flinched. Her fingers curling over the scarf still tied around her hand.

"-Wasn't with us in the safe haven, so if he survived I'm sure others did as well…"

They tossed idea's back and forth, until ultimately deciding that the next focus would be the dust, a seemingly impossible task; since Cora was unlikely to just _let_ them take it. As for the rest, well, they'd cross that bridge when it came to it.

"Where do you think Cora is?" Mulan asked Emma as Mary Margaret and Aurora settled down to sleep, Aurora's head lay in Mary Margaret's lap and the older woman calmly smoothed a hand over her head.

Emma watched the scene with an awful sense of guilt rising in her gut. She couldn't help but keep Mary Margaret- _Snow White- her mother…_ at arm's length. She'd spent her entire life maintaining walls around the subject of her parents, and now, even when she knew the truth it didn't mean the walls were just gone. No matter how she wanted to let the older woman in, it just wasn't that simple.

She was annoyed, however, that she'd opened up more to the damn pirate, than she had to her own mother. Christ, her mother didn't even know the truth about Henry's father- she didn't even think she'd admitted to her mother that she'd once loved Neal… even before she'd found out Mary Margaret was her mother back when they were simply friends.

She pulled the compass out of her pocket and held it in her uninjured hand. It gleamed magnificently even in the dim light of the dying fire. Idly she fiddled with the chain…

"Emma?"

"What? Sorry, I spaced out a little there…"

Mulan's brows furrowed in confusion at the odd term but she got the gist of the statement. She opened her mouth as if to say something then paused…

"Go ahead. What's on your mind?" Emma asked as she noticed the gesture.

"You shouldn't feel guilty for not being a normal daughter for her." The Asian beauty said carefully.

The blonde's eyes narrowed as she realised Mulan's astute presumption.

"I know what it's like to have the weight of people's expectations, and to feel as if you should be something you're not. Bu I don't think Snow wants you to be anyone other than you. All this time, she's only been trying to get you to open up a little, so she can get to know you." Mulan glanced at the pair fast asleep on the far side of the clearing. "And maybe I'm overstepping a my boundaries but I don't think she wants you suddenly become a little girl, whose hair she can braid, or dress up in ball gowns, she mourns that she never had that chance and that there were so many things she's missed out on, but I think she's trying to put that in the past. Take it from me, real parent's will always love us, no matter who we are; or what we choose to do with our lives."

Emma averted her eyes at the humbling past she saw reflected in the warrior's eyes. If this woman's life was anything like the movies, then she was definitely one of the bravest people Emma had ever met. To be true to yourself, even when you risked your parent's disappointment... Emma couldn't imagine the courage it must have taken.

"But what if it's me, what if my past has hurt me too much?" Emma whispered quietly, confiding in this brilliant brave woman who spoke so confidently, and saw so much. "What if I can't let her in, how do you trust someone when you've spent your whole life believing they abandoned you."

Mulan shrugged helplessly. "Trust is a complicated thing. It can be earned- and from what I've seen Snow is trying desperately to earn back that trust. I suppose the real question is whether you can learn to trust someone who; granted inadvertently, has hurt you." She added another log to the fire. "It's harder, when you care for someone. For as much as you fear not being able to let her in, I'm almost certain she's already started to worm her way into your heart. She's your mother Emma, I'm not sure you _can_ keep her out."

Emma's fist tightened on the compass as familiar words echoed in her head, _try something new darling. It's called trust._

Mulan, as if sensing the conversation was over, leant back so she was laid out on the ground. "Are you sure you want first watch?" She questioned finally, her eyes fixed on the stars overhead and for some reason, her expression was sad.

"Hey, Mulan…" Emma murmured brushing the question aside, "Why are you helping us?"

"There's nowhere else left for me to go."

The following silence was almost as painful as the announcement. "You know, you can always come to Storybrook with us…"

"I- thank you for the offer…"

"…but?"

"I feel uncomfortable with the idea of leaving this land. Perhaps there remains a way for me to help save it."

Emma found herself smiling at the woman before her. "Maybe, while we search for a way for me and Mary Margaret to get across, we can also search for a way to fix what the curse did to this place?"

She was answered with a hopeful grin and a firm nod, "I'd like that."

~O~

The fire spluttered indignantly as Emma simply tossed a handful of dry leaves into its centre then sprung happily to life as its feisty flames tucked happily into the foliage. She added a few more of the thicker sticks to the fire then, when she was content that it wouldn't go out, turned her attention back to the compass.

She held her hand out before her, the compass flat against her palm. The pointer faced in her direction.

_Mulan_. She thought clearly, her eyes fixed on the compass face. The pointer quivered then spun until it pointed in Mulan's direction.

_Aurora._ The needle quivered again then shifted until it pointed directly as the sleeping princess.

Emma bit her lip, she was pretty sure she'd worked out how the compass worked, now did she dare- she sighed, and giving into temptation, thought _Hook._ The compass needle spun on itself several times before settling in the direction Emma knew the beanstalk lay and was ultimately unhelpful. She already knew he was in that direction, and was unsure why she thought the compass would give her any more information. Maybe it's because this was a magic compass… she thought it would tell her exactly where the pirate was, and more specifically how far away he was.

A brisk wind whipped through the clearing and the fire went out. Huffing in annoyance Emma crawled towards the smoking pile and grabbed the stone and stick she'd seen Mulan using to start the fire earlier. Furiously she rubbed the stick between her palms against the stone. Nothing, nada… zip. This looked so much easier on TV.

Several uttered curses later she finally got a spark. She fed it some dry leaves as she coaxed it from a small spark to a steady flame. She sat back smugly reaching for some twigs to add when another brisk wind whistled past and again the fire went out.

Had Emma been back home, she would have chalked it up to coincidence, but this was a land where there were giants and ogres and magic and she wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. She hurriedly woke her companions.

"Wha's goin' on?" Yawned Mary Margaret as Emma shook her shoulder. "Is it my watch?"

"No, something weird is happening… The fire's gone out twice now… and both times there was an unnatural wind. I think something's wrong."

Instantly the woman was on her feet, a dagger in her hand and Emma was once again stuck by how ass kicking she was compared to the timid Mary Margaret she'd first met in Storybrooke. After a quick surveillance of the clearing she realised Mulan also had her sword drawn and even Aurora looked uneasy.

"Well, what is it? Centaurs…? Trolls? Dragons…?" Emma shifted uncomfortably as she listed all the creatures she didn't particularly want to run into.

Mulan shook her head.

Another gust of wind whistled through the clearing, only this one was powerful enough to knock all the women to the floor.

"Emma!" Yelled Mary Margaret as Emma was thrown a little way away from the others.

"What was that?"

"I don't know. We have to get out of here!"

"Agreed," added Mulan unnecessarily.

Fearful that she'd lose the compass if she was thrown around again, Emma pulled it from her pocket and looped the chain around her neck, tucking it under her shirt.

"I don't think so my pretties," cackled a croaky voice.

All four women searched for the source of the voice. Emma had to stifle a gasp as an owl swooped into the clearing because seconds later the owl was gone and a man dropped to the floor before her. She scrambled backwards until she bumped into Mary Margret.

"Who are you?" Mary Margaret demanded; her tone authoritative and regal even though she lay sprawled on the floor with the rest of them.

The man chuckled and dipped into a mocking bow. As he bent his head forward into the moonlight Emma noticed his red hair and moustache, though he appeared to be balding on top. "Ah, so the white queen also survived the curse… although it seems your hair did not."

Mary Margaret's hand instantly rose to her shortened locks; she'd actually grown fond of her shorter hair.

"You have me at a disadvantage sir, for I know not your name."

His grin was downright frightening. "Rothbart," He bowed again, "At your service your highness."

A squeak escaped Aurora and out of the corner of her eye, Emma noticed Mulan's eyes widen. "The great animal," Aurora whispered finally, though she'd taken on a glazed look, and Emma doubted she'd even realised she'd spoken.

"No matter what," Mary Margaret hissed in her ear, "Do not tell him your last name is Swan, do you hear me."

Emma looked round at her in confusion, Why would-?

"Do not tell him." It was the look of pure fear in Mary Margaret's eyes that caused Emma to nod.

She got a niggling feeling in the back of her head, almost as if there was something she was forgetting… Rothbart… The great animal… Why did they seem so familiar?

"Now who have we here?" Rothbart began to move towards Mulan and Aurora… and she's not sure what made her do it- perhaps it was the same fear in Mary Margaret's eyes that was written all across their faces that made Emma draw his attention to her.

"Hey, I don't know who you are but what exactly do you want from us?" She ignored Mary Margaret's hushed "_No!" a_s she rose to her feet.

"Ah, A backbone…" His eyes, dark and dangerous, glinted as he approached her and because she was watching his face she knew the exact moment he noticed her necklace.

No! She started to bring her hand up to grab the compass from around her neck when she found herself unable to move. Why- Why hadn't she just left it in her pocket?!

He stalked forwards, and from the sudden stillness behind her she presumed he'd also immobilised Mary Margaret. His hand stretched out and stroked the surface of her necklace. "A swan," he muttered in wonder.

That was when she realised it wasn't the golden chain of the compass that had drawn his attention, no, instead it was the small silver swan pendant she'd had since she was a child that drew his eye.

"It seems," he continued, his hand now moving to stroke her hair, "that I have my new princess."

And suddenly she knew. She knew why his name was familiar; she knew why _the great animal_ had tickled her memories, and damn it all if the crazy gleam in his eyes didn't set her teeth on edge.

"My new _Swan_ princess," He added reverently as Emma found her vision blurring, then she was falling, and darkness took her.

~O~

AN: Hook shall appear soon... ish... :)

Edit: *Facepalms* I spelt Mary Margaret's name wrong, so I've gone back and changed them all... *Hides in shame* Of all the mistakes to make... wth self, focus!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

~O~

Waking wasn't as painful as Emma thought it was going to be. It seemed there was a perk to magic; there was no dull throbbing from an incapacitating blow to the head, no spinning sensation from intoxication or the awful stomach turning nausea that followed drug induced unconsciousness. Unfortunately they held one thing in common; when she finally awoke on a lavish –if overly sized- bed, she had no recollection of how she got there. The absence of Mary Margaret, Mulan and Aurora within the room brought forth a wealth of worry that was dulled by her overwhelming disorientation.

Cautiously she sat up. Thankfully her clothes remained – though the knife she kept in her boot was gone. A quick pat down revealed the compass remained against her chest, the metal; warmed by her skin, was a slight comfort. Her swan pendant also remained clasped around her neck, and she had to fiddle with the catch slightly to free a few wayward strands of hair that had become entangled in it while she slept.

A quick sweep of the room revealed a single door and three windows; all of which didn't seem to have any noticeable latch or catch, or any other way of opening them. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and steadily made her way to the door. It was locked. No surprise there. She crossed the room and inspected the windows more closely, pushing at the glass and tugging at the various ridges with her fingernails. Sealed; utterly and completely. She wiggled her hand around the edges; there wasn't as much as a draft.

She wasn't sure whether the room was naturally designed this way or whether her… _host_ was used to people trying to escape and had taken precautionary measures. Either way, it didn't appear she was leaving this room for a while. The various chest, cupboards and draws were the next point of call. Anything pointy was a desire of hers right now. She had no idea where she was, what he wanted from her and without her knife she felt naked and a little vulnerable. She didn't like it.

She didn't have long to wait.

"Ah, the princess is awake." Emma hadn't heard the door open –or close for that matter- and felt distinctly out of her depth.

Summoning her no nonsense attitude she turned to the direction of the drawling voice, "I'm not a princess." Well, okay so _technically_ she was, but _urgh_ that was a whole different headache.

Rothbart leant casually against the door, arms crossed with a smirk playing across his lips. "Not yet perhaps."

His attire was almost exactly the same as the previous night, (at least she hoped it was the previous night, she quickly realised she had no idea how much time had passed). He had however ditched the ominous cloak, showing off a –no doubt- expensive purple shirt, and worryingly toned arms, it seemed attempting to overpower him was out of the question… maybe if she had the others for back up…

She took a small step forwards and crossed her arms, attempting to convey how unimpressed she was with his pathetic power play. The subsequent shudder that followed his approving leer shone light on her lie. God damn it…He was _creepy._

"Where's Mary Margaret?"

"Mary Margaret?"

He frowned in confusion.

"Um…" She wrinkled her nose. "Snow white."

His eyes lit up, "Ah, her highness." He pushed away from the door in a lazy fluid motion and took several steps further into the room. He ignored Emma's tactical retreat. "This castle only has room for one monarch-"

Emma gasped, he couldn't have-

"Oh she's alive, don't worry my pet." He continued to approach her; the steps slow and languid. Still she moved backwards, conscious of the rooms solid stone wall behind her, knowing she was inching towards it but unable to stop her body's natural response. "Though her quarters are not quite as _furnished _as these, and she has company-"

"Aurora and Mulan…?"

Instantly Rothbart was in her personal space. She had not seen him move. "I would not interrupt again, _princess._"

She glared but remained silent. At least she knew Mary Margaret was alive, and hopefully Aurora and Mulan were with her.

"Now then, _my dear_, what is your name?"

"Emma."

"Emma…?" He chuckled and his hand found its way into her hair and he tugged lightly on a loose curl, she flinched but didn't move. "No last name my dear?"

"No." She lied; she briefly contemplated giving a fake surname but immediately thought against it, it would be too complicated trying to remember it. Besides she still wasn't sure why Mary Margaret had warned her against telling him her second name, though she had her suspicions, and she didn't want to risk giving a name that made the situation worse.

Emma knew he saw through the lie, yet he didn't seem interested enough to pursue the truth.

Rothbart crossed the room to the wardrobe. "You're slightly more… ample than the previous inhabitants of this room. But I am sure some of these will fit." He ran his eyes over her form, lingering in certain places long enough for Emma to blush in embarrassment and anger. "Dress and meet me in the main hall, it shouldn't be too hard for you to find."

Then, he disappeared. He _actually_ disappeared, in a puff of smoke no less. Emma refused to be impressed.

Furiously Emma yanked open the door to her room, she was about to seek him out and give him a piece of her mind when she remembered his imposing figure backing her against the wall. Until she knew exactly what he was capable of perhaps she should take things slow, get a feel for the place… without getting herself killed in the process. His thinly veiled threat –the reference to the previous inhabitants- did not go unnoticed by her.

Until she found Mary Margaret and the others perhaps she should follow his… _wishes_…

In the corner of the room the wardrobe stood, with its doors wide open, just as Rothbart had left it. Emma winced. She had to wear one of those? Pulling the door closed she approached wardrobe with the brightly coloured dresses. They were so… girly. Not that there was anything wrong with girly, Emma herself enjoyed dressing up for a night out, and frequently wore dresses and skirts, but these… they were so poofy. She pulled a face at a particularly frilly pink dress. Oh lord, was that a bow?

As she rummaged through the various dresses; desperately trying not to think about the women who must have worn them –really, she had to wear _used_ dresses? Some king of the castle he was- she also tried not to think about the last time she'd looked at these types of dresses… because that lead to thoughts of her prom and _God_ was that something she wanted to forget. Also this wasn't the time or the place to reminisce about her childhood; she'd done that whilst climbing the damn beanstalk and look where that had gotten her.

A glance in the direction of the window reinforced the knowledge that it was indeed _day time_ which meant Hook was definitely down the beanstalk by now. She checked the door guiltily and pulled out the compass, all the while unsure why she felt like she was sneaking around, examining the cool gold gleam of the surface. _Hook_, she thought, then, before the compass could point her in any direction slapped her hand over the compass face.

No. What was she doing? She should be trying to find Mary Margaret and the others! _Mary Magaret_, she thought quickly, forcefully shoving any and all images of the blasted pirate from her head. He _wasn't_ important.

The needle pointed west. Spinning Emma looked directly at the opposite wall, so her friends were that way. She weighed up her options, while she'd initially thought to follow Rothbart's wishes; she couldn't help but simply want to get as far away from him as possible- as quickly as possible. Perhaps this was the best time to do it? After all she didn't particularly like the idea of waiting to see what he had in store for her and her friends.

Once she made up her mind she decided the dresses could wait, perhaps indefinitely. Emma crossed the room to the door, and peaked out. All clear… she glanced back at the compass and turned left… _careful Swan_, she thought, _don't get caught_.

Several corridors, a narrow passage way, and a creepy staircase later Emma found herself in -what she had no doubt what so ever- was the dungeons. Dark, dingy and smelling of moss, these were the epitome of cliché dungeons. But what surprised Emma the most was the lack of guards, and servants, and well, if she was honest, people in general. For all her sneaking around she hadn't seen a single sign of life in the entire castle- even though the castle its self was large enough to host a vast number of people.

The dungeon corridors themselves were empty, and Emma relaxed, perhaps foolishly, out of the shadowed nooks and cranny's to move steadily down the centre of the tunnel. She found herself frequently slipping, as the damp dirt beneath her feet built up in the soles of her shoes. The ceiling itself seems to drip water as ever now and again Emma swiped a droplet of dirty water from her face. She hated the thought that Mary Margaret and the others were down here, yet all the same knew she would have rather woken up in the damp and dark with them, than the fake hospitality upstairs with its terrifying undercurrent.

The compass led her through a twisting maze of tunnels, until she finally came across iron bars and three quarrelling women inside.

"If you'd just let me pick the lock-"

"No! If we try to escape he might hurt Emma…"

"We don't even know what's he's done with Emma…"

"He's the great animal, What if he's already…"

"Don't say that! She's not-"

Emma rolled her eyes and decided to intervene. "Uh, hate to break this up, but we've got to go." She immediately reached for the lock, only to realise she neither had the key nor did she have anything sharp and pointy with which to pick the lock. Well done swan, way to think this through…

"Emma!" Mary Margarets hands immediately reached through the bars to brush over Emma's shoulder and clasp her face, Emma was stunned to notice tears welling in the woman's eyes. "You're okay."

"I'm fine, but I don't know how long we have. We have to hurry! Can you any of you pick this lock?" She removed Mary Margaret's hands from their frantic patting, and gave them a little squeeze before addressing the other people within the cell… though, if she was honest, she was mainly addressing Mulan.

The warrior woman moved forwards pulling several pins and long needles from her hair. "I believe I can." She inserted first the long needle, then a shorter pin into the lock. She chewed her lip as her worked, wiggling them this was then that.

"How did you find us?" Asked Aurora, who'd moved closer to the bars almost check for her-self that Emma really was okay.

Emma dangled the compass in front of them, "I think I worked out how this works." She slipped it into her pocket and clasped Aurora's hand. "Don't worry, we're getting out of here."

There was a click. Emma grinned at Mulan and was about to join both Aurora and Mary Margaret in their congratulations towards the woman, when laughter caught her attention; deep, throaty laughter.

Emma whipped around in horror to find Rothbart once again casually leant against the wall.

"You," Breathed Mary Margaret heatedly and she wrenched open the cell door, "You stay away from my daughter."

_Uh… shit._

It was as if the world froze for a moment. Even Mary Margaret froze as she realised what she said.

_Great one mom…_

Rothbart practically cooed in delight. "What's this, the princess is actually a _princess_… you lied to me my pet." His gaze swivelled to land on Emma even as his hand flicked outright and Mary Margaret was flung backwards into the cell.

The iron door swung closed and the distinct click of the lock seemed to echo around the tunnel.

"I'll be taking those." Mulan's lock pinking equipment flew from her hands and landed snugly in Rothbart's claw like fingers. "And any others you may have stashed on your person."

The various pins and needles stashed in Mulan's hair and about her person vanished, as well as the ties and clips holding her hair tied back. Her dark hair tumbled around her shoulders as she glared defiantly at Rothbart. "Now don't look at me like that, I have to be sure you aren't going to continue to be sneaky." He wiggled his finger in admonishment.

"As for you," He turned to Emma. "Breakfast is waiting."

"No! I said stay away from her-"Started Mary Margaret, but Emma didn't catch the rest of the sentence as with a flourish, both Emma and Rothbart dissolved into nothing, leaving a distraught queen, a frightened princess and a weapon-less warrior in the dark.

~O~

Whatever comment he'd made about breakfast in the dungeon's seemed forgotten as she appeared not in any kind of dining room, or even the room she awoke in. Instead when her eyes adjusted to the light she realised she was outside. Raising a hand to shield her eyes she observed the landscape around her, before her lay a vast lake with a forest on the far side. She was about seventy per cent sure that was the forest they'd been captured in. She turned on her heel and stared up at the magnificent castle towering high above her, secluded in the shower of a mountain that reached higher than the castle towers itself.

"Beautiful isn't it." Rothbart murmured in her ear.

She shoved him away and deliberately put a good few paces between them. What the hell was his problem?

"Oh I wouldn't do that my dear, you see, not only have you lied to me; repeatedly, but you ignored my hospitable request to join me for breakfast, and attempted to free your friends… and your mother." Rothbart became increasingly agitated and Emma found herself continuing to back away. She wanted to be as far away from his particular brand of crazy as she could.

That is until he played the damn immobilizing card, then she couldn't so much as twitch her fingers.

"Look!" He gestured angrily towards the lake. Forcibly turning her on the spot when he realized she couldn't actually see the lake because she was still facing the castle.

With dread she followed the line of sight down his arm and along his finger, it was there, on the surface of the lake that she sported them. A cluster of pure white swans… her stomach felt like it had free fallen into a bucket of ice cold water.

Swans, so it really was like the film…

"You disobeyed me, tried to leave," here his face turned dark, eyes almost frantic "and you are not allowed to leave." His eyes darted from her, to the lake, then back again.

Emma's blood froze in her veins, there was something in that tone that deeply unsettled her, a most primal instinct screaming run, but the magic held her firmly in place.

The crazed eyes calmed somewhat, his expression sliding into something that mimicked sadness, but lacked the fundamental emotion behind it. His gaze caught her fearful one and he stared into her eyes possessively, "It pains me to do this, but you must come to your senses, and until you do, I must take the adequate precautions. You are _my _Swan Princess, _mine_, and no one will take you from me."

He pressed his palm against her cheek. A bitter coldness began to seep through her skin from the contact. Magic, invasive and cruel spread through her veins. Even the magic holding her static could not prevent the gasp she let loose as Rothbart's curse reached her heart. Her eyes widened and her pulse climbed, faster and faster as her heart attempted to fight off the disturbance.

"S-Stop." Emma forced out not noticing Rothbart's startled reaction at the sound. She sank to the ground as his hand left her skin, her breathing harsh and pained.

He stared at her in confusion. "How…? You shouldn't be able to- No! You won't stop me! I won't let you leave! You are mine!" His hand found its way to her chin, forcing it up, "Mine, Emma, you belong to me now."

Then with determination his eyes snapped shut and Emma balked under the wave of magic that assaulted her skin. This time it was painful. Her arms that had previously been supporting her weight shuddered and gave way as her body shook with tremors.

Rothbart's arms caught her as she fell, though he remained in skin to skin contact at all times. "Shhh, my beauty, it will be over soon. I didn't want to do this, you forced my hand…" He balanced her carefully against his chest as he sank to the floor beside her. "Shhh, it will be over soon, my brave, brave princess."

His hand stroked the top of her head, and while part of her, such a large part screamed and demanded she pull away, that he was hurting her, the other part; the smaller part, turned slightly into his hand. Make it stop, she begged. Please. I can't take it anymore.

Rothbart cooed and petted as her broken sobs reached his ears. "Such a strong girl not to scream… what a worthy princess you are..."

A stab of pain pierced her heart and because Emma was nothing is not stubborn to the core she found the small comfort seeking part of herself overpowered. She tried to pull away. "I. Am not. A-" she broke of as a fresh wave of tremor's racked her body. "- Princess..."

Almost tenderly he brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, "Oh my dear, you are."

It was then, as the curse took affect and her body started to collapse in on itself, that Emma screamed. She screamed as her neck elongated and her shoulders snapped out of place. She screamed as her skin was stretched over freshly grown bones, and as new limbs from her back enveloped her arms. She screamed until she was unable to scream, as her lips became a beak and a sad mournful call escaped her.

Thankfully it was then that the pain stopped. Though her body; still in shock from the transformation, was unable to do more than _breathe_ still sprawled across Rothbarts lap. Too scared to take in the changes in her appearance she lifted her head to face Rothbart.

The smile was the first thing she saw; wide and deeply satisfied. "Such a beautiful creature..."

Her new body felt clumsy, disorientated, still stinging with the after shock of the transformation and Emma startled at the hand that reverently stroked her head. She scrambled away from the touch, tripping over her new limbs and shorted legs. She landed painfully in the dirt. Rothbart chuckled noticeably calmer. Then he paused and looked off into the distance for a while. He grinned.

"Visitors!" then he frowned, tone turning petulant, and began muttering. "I haven't had visitors in months, this cannot be a coincidence. They must be here for her. No, they cannot have her. This is my castle mine, I make the rules here and they will not get what they've come for. She is my Swan Princess. I will not share." he looked back at her and smirked "… And they will not be able to take you from me like this. And you will not be able to leave. I'll turn you back when I know it's...safe."

Then he was gone leaving Emma, alone and scared, sprawled out on the ground. And while the thought shouldn't have sprung to her head, especially not in light of her recent ordeal she couldn't help but think that the disappearing act was quickly starting to annoy her.

Bracing herself for the worse she half stumbled half slid across the muddy bank of the lake to peer at her reflection. Oh god, she had wings. A swan, he'd turned her into a swan. Granted she knew her fate the moment the curse has finished, but to _see_ it, irrefutable before her eyes. Angrily she splashed at her reflection, feeling all the worse when it wasn't a hand but a wing that darted out and her new body wasn't as easy to control as her old one, so the movement caused her to topple over into the shallows.

Argh! Don't cry Emma, don't cry. There's no time for tears, it's just a curse, like the one on Storybrooke and the one Regina accidentally put on Henry. She broke those, there had to be a way to break this one too.

In Rothbarts absence he swans on the far side of the lake drifted closer to take a look at the new arrival and Emma really wished they hadn't. Because there was no mistaking the sadness in the eyes of each and every swan that ventured close enough. _Human_ sadness; full of awareness and pity, Emma's stomach rolled at the sight of it. They knew there was no hope.

It was almost a good thing she hadn't had breakfast because she wasn't sure she'd be able to keep anything down. This land was insane. The _people_ were all insane. Giants, sorceresses who ripped out people's hearts, ogres… magicians who turned people into swans…

She just wanted to go home…

~O~

"It's not here." Cora said, turning from the three gasping women at her feet. "Where's the other one?"

"Ah, Ah, Ah. I don't share; you should know that by now."

"N-No…" Snow panted, clutching her chest in pain.

"Shhh," Rothbart cooed, "Your betters are talking your highness, I would advise you to remain quiet."

"The pretty blonde lass has the compass." Repeated the pirate; who had demanded searching her the moment he and Cora arrived. Unfortunately- though fortunately for Emma- Rothbart was a possessive bastard, and refused to let either of his guests anywhere near his new princess. "All we want is the compass; you are welcome to keep the lass."

"I didn't see a compass." Rothbart argued petulantly; coincidentally leaving out the fact that he hadn't bothered looking. A beautiful woman with a swan pendant had stumbled onto his land… he didn't care if she could find north, south, or wherever else she wanted with a bloody comapss. It was fate. He was meant to have her… He cast a distrustful eye at the pirate, and he wouldn't let anyone else have her. Not that they'd be able to take her in her current state. He allowed himself to smile smugly, satisfied that no one would be taking his princess away. Not this time.

"Well she's not going to parade it around is she," snapped Cora, "The little wretch has probably hidden the blasted thing by now."

Rothbarts hand curled around Cora's throat, as he rematerialized beside her. "A word of caution my lady, insulting my new princess is … ill advised. Especially after how brave she's been today."

Killian's snort of amusement (_Princess, ha! Mutinous wench is more like it) _went unnoticed as Cora hastened to apologise. "Forgive me, I meant no offence, you of all people know how long I've searched for a way out of this cursed land."

Rothbart released her, "You never did tell me why, with all the goody too shoes gone it's free reign for people like us."

"Revenge my dear Rothbart."

The mad man cackled in glee. "Ah yes, revenge, such a worthy pursuit. But I'm afraid I can't help you, I don't want my new pet damaged. It's been years since the last one."

Snow lashed out and managed to catch Cora round the ankles with her legs. The witch tumbled to the floor. A short fight ensued, Snow – as determined as she was- proved no match for the sorceress and was soon writhing on the floor as Cora tugged at her heart.

"That's enough." Rothbart interrupted, carelessly saving his princess's mother, "I may have use for her in the future."

Cora obliterated the mud from her dress as she rose to her feet, "I suggest you take care with this one, she was after all the cause of my daughters undoing."

"Don't for a moment think I won't be yours." Spat Snow white, and only Mulan's grip on her shoulder prevented her from going round two with the woman threatening her daughter.

Cora ignored her, and turned back to Rothbart. "You wouldn't even help old friends?" Cora asked curiously, masking the furious desire to kick Snow white in frustration.

"I've let you play with my prisoner's," He swept a hand in their direction. As if that was a great gift he'd bestowed upon Cora and Killian.

"But the loot we seek isn't here." Killian pointed out, steadfastly refusing to so much as glance in the direction of the three women huddled together on the cell floor.

Rothbart sighed. "Fine, fine, you may search her room."

"Her room?!" Cora snarled, "What if it isn't there? I'm not leaving without it Rothbart."

Killian watched the two powerhouses stare each other down, and not for the first time wondered who was more powerful.

He knew Rothbart back when the enchanter had first taken over this kingdom, back when the man had been enamoured with the princess Odette. That was back before The Dark One had taken his hand and his love. He'd frequented the kingdoms port, looking for supplies and woman, without having to worry about being slapped in chains. He and Rothbart had a business arrangement of sorts, Killian would search the seven kingdoms for beautiful maiden's and bring them to Rothbart, in exchange he received gold and a safe haven to dock his ship.

They fell out of contact when Killian met Milah, she wasn't particularly pleased with his cargo of women, so Killian had taken business elsewhere.

Cora he'd met after Milah, and after the dark one. He'd stumbled across her in Neverland, whilst he was amidst bartering with the fairies and sirens. He needed a way to resist magic; he needed to meet the dark one on an even playing field, and she had been trapped there by her daughter. Cora would help him convince the mermaids, who would in turn convince the fairies to aid his task. Then he would give her a ride home on his ship.

The curse put a dampener on both of their plans, and when they returned to a wrecked land, they'd made the simple decision to stay together until they found either The Dark One or Queen Regina. A few months ago, when they realised Rothbart hadn't succumbed to the curse, they sought his aid in travelling worlds.

Unfortunately even with their combined, neither Cora nor Rothbart had been able to open a portal or influence the curse in anyway.

Perhaps, he mused idly, this Regina was more powerful than her own mother gave her credit for. The irony was almost too much.

"_You_ could always ask the lass where she's hidden the compass."

He watched as Rothbart turned to face him, and was aware of a certain hostility in the other man's gaze that hadn't been present in all the years he'd known him. He inwardly smirked; it seemed the enchanter saw him as a threat over dear Miss Swan. Not that the magician would be wrong, even after the betrayal and the trust issues, Killian knew he had more of a chance with the blonde beauty than the man before him.

Hell, from the way she had grabbed him he'd say he had more than a _chance_. Getting her to admit it however… He inwardly shrugged, he'd faced tougher challenges.

Not that he was going to get a chance to pursue her, he still had to complete his own plans for revenge, and he wasn't going to make an enemy of Rothbart before that was finished. His dance card was currently full; the dark one was a powerful enough wizard to be dealing with. He was in no hurry to snatch away the favoured pet of another. Which was a pity, Emma was just his type of woman: Feisty and beautiful.

He felt distinctly uncomfortable when he thought of what she'd be like after Rothbart was through with her, but instantly pushed it aside.

She was only a woman. He'd known her barely a week. She wasn't worth risking his neck over. Still the uncomfortable feeling in his chest didn't disappear.

"I could." Rothbart turned back to Cora. "But what's in it for me?"

"In it for you…? What more could you possibly want?"

Rothbart grinned, and a shiver ran down Killian's spine. "I'll let you know." He turned to the three women still sprawled out on the floor. "Now then my pretties, I'm throwing a little party to welcome our new princess, and silly me- I seem to have forgotten the curse whipped out anyone worth inviting. So it seems you'll get a chance to stretch your legs."

He clicked his fingers and Killan, Cora, Snow and the others found themselves in a large room, with two beds, and a wardrobe. Aurora managed to drag herself into a sitting position and leant carefully against the side of the bed, with her help the other two managed a similar position.

"There should be a dress for each of you in there- and I wouldn't recommend trying to escape. I wouldn't want to punish my new princess for your disobedience." Aurora paled as he continued. "But I'm not all bad…You'll get to spend one final night with your precious Emma… before she's mine forever."

Then abruptly he turned to face Cora and Killian couldn't help but notice the madness scribbled across his features. Behind him Killian noticed Snow's pleading expression. Killian abruptly turned away. He wasn't going to be guilted into anything.

"Killian, Cora, if you'll follow me, I'll show you to your quarters. I'm sure you don't mind staying for my little party? With any luck I'll be able to give you the compass over light refreshments." He turned and led them from the room.

Killian felt Snow's gaze on his back as he left the room. How dare she demand anything from him, not after he'd been left up a bloody beanstalk- with a _Giant no less…_ He was under no obligation to help them, or Emma escape. None. Cora would get him to this _Storybrooke_, and then he would have his revenge.

And he wasn't going to let some Lass come between him and Rumplestiltskin. Besides, Emma was Rothbarts now, and Killian had never known the magician to let his things go.

~O~

AN: So, so tempting to include "No more Mr nice guy." In the next chapter… so freaking tempting… Still, at least this one had a bit of Hook, even if it was a little slow, and Emma and Hook haven't met yet. But weee, things are starting to ... um... start…

Now, I should probably apologise in advance… Emma/Hook will take _time_, there may be flirting, because Hook's just a damn flirt, but the relationship… well… that's a bit too distant to properly describe yet, but hopefully you'll all enjoy the journey they take to get there… or you know, hate it and come after me with pitch forks…

Hopefully you enjoyed reading this as much as my sister had editing it :P Poor girl, sometimes I think she despairs at having such a damn idiot for a sister, but alas, here's chapter two of her birthday present ^_^

Oh! And thank-you to everyone who reviewed! They made my week! :D


	3. Chapter 3

_Splosh._

_Thwack._

_Splash._

Her new body sucked, Emma thought despondently as she waved her arms- _wing_s about furiously; trying to propel her body back into the shallows where her feet could touch the floor. She shook her head miserably. Her damp feathers sent tiny droplets careening off in every direction; causing the surface of the lake to ripple around her. She just couldn't get the hang of her new limbs. Earlier she'd attempted to make her way back into the castle, but for her little legs it was simply too far… Also the ground was hard and unyielding and the constant face plants in the dirt wore away at her determination.

She'd thought the lake would be kinder. She was wrong. Any attempt to enter the deeper waters of the lake ended up the same way; awkward off balanced flapping, followed by an inevitable, feet in the air almost drowning, panic. The other swans had quickly left Emma to her own devises; retreating to the far side of the lack, possibly out of fear of injury because it seemed Emma dearly lacked any grace, or poise. It was infuriating.

Thankfully the sun was beginning to set, so if the fairy tale was true, she should be turning back into herself soon enough. Carefully, trying desperately not to stumble and fall (_again_), she turned to watch as the sun slowly sank below the horizon.

She braced herself for the same pain that had accosted her body upon the initial transformation, but was startled when she felt nothing but warmth, akin to cuddling a hot water bottle, wash over her skin. She sighed in pleasure and in no time at all she was herself again, sopping wet, and still crouched in the shallows of the lake, but entirely human.

But oh, how she ached; from the tips of her fingers all the way down to her toes. Wearily she forced herself upright, and with slow steps exited the lake. Alongside the dull ache, her body felt all pins and needle-y. It was one of the strangest feelings Emma had encountered, and she found herself flopping down on the grass not far from the waters edges. Emma tugged off her boots and her jacket, placing the later beside her to dry. She then attempted to massage some feeling back into her feet, hoping to drive away the throbbing ache while she was at it.

"You're human again."

Emma almost shrieked, startled, as Rothbart appeared behind her. She quickly realised her shirt was damp and slightly see through, she wasted no time in slipping her jacket back on.

"How are you human again?" He began to slowly circle her, running his eyes over each expanse of cloth and skin.

Quickly she got to her feet, not liking the power dynamics created by remaining seated. "The sun went down," She said casually.

"What does it matter if the sun is, or is not, in the sky?" The circling continued, accompanied by various finger prodding. "My curse was not designed to factor in such irrelevant details."

She swatted away his hands, relieved to note he seemed far calmer and more grounded than their last encounter, "What do you mean?"

"My curse does what I want. If I want you as a Swan, you will be a Swan. If I want you as a person you will be a person. This does not make sense." He peered at her, and she was surprised to see confusion rather than anger across his features. "What did you do?"

"Nothing, I didn't-"

"I would advise you not to lie to me, my dear Emma. You know I don't like being lied too."

Her anger rose quicker than her fear. "Well I don't particularly like being a Swan, but I didn't get a choice in that did I." She snapped.

"No. No, Emma my sweet, don't you see, don't you understand? I did that for you. To make sure you stay here, with me, always. I couldn't have you leaving, and I can't have anyone taking you." He crooned softly.

He stepped closer and clasped her hands, "Now tell me how, exactly, did you turn back? Was it magic? Do you have magic?" His eyes grew wide, and his blatant excitement was almost more terrifying than his anger.

Emma ripped her hands from his. "I told you. The sun went down and I turned back. That's all, no magic involved unless you count the damn curse you placed on me in the first place."

His confusion and excitement at her human appearance was beginning to unsettle Emma. If he was telling the truth, and his curse really didn't end when the sun went down then how…?

"You- you really didn't turn me back." She asked, watching his face carefully for any sign of a lie.

"No my dear, I did not." He grinned, "But it seems you are even more suited to be my princess than I first thought. We'll have plenty of time to explore your magic-"

Emma rolled her eyes, with everything that had happened since she'd encountered the deceptively quaint town of Storybrooke, the mere notion that she could have magic was by far the most ridiculous. She was twenty eight, if she had magic she'd know about it.

"I don't have-"

"-But unfortunately you have to get ready." He continued as if he hadn't heard her.

"Hold up… get ready?"

"Why of course, I have to present you to my subjects," He turned to gaze out over the lake. "Well, some of them at least..."

He missed Emma's glare.

"Come along Princess." He turned and began to walk back to the castle, leaving Emma no choice but to follow; demanding all the while that he explain what he meant by 'get ready'.

~O~

"I look ridiculous." Emma told the statue –yes _statue_- helping her get ready. Rothbart apparently didn't trust her alone, but neither did he trust her with an actual person. Instead once they arrived back at the castle he'd brought a statue of a scantily dressed woman from the corridor to life, then ushered it into the room after her.

The statue remained silent; Emma had yet to convince it to utter so much as a peep… perhaps it couldn't actually talk…

She sighed, and turned back to the mirror. She couldn't believe she was actually wearing one of those silly ball gowns. She looked like a little girl playing dress up. The dress was white and overly decorated. She adjusted the corset in disgust; the plain white material was covered in a silver design which caught the light each time she so much as breathed. Emma huffed. Pointless. On anyone else Emma thought it would actually look relatively pretty. However she was not a ball gown type of girl, and the numerous undercoats to the damn dress grated at her nerves.

She was also completely out of her comfort zone; her hair had been pinned into a sleek up-do that exposed her neck and shoulders and Emma couldn't remember feeling more vulnerable. She didn't like it- she didn't like it at all. She had to get out of here, she wasn't going to allow Rothbart to parade her around like a prized stallion-

-but she couldn't leave without Mary Margaret, Mulan and Aurora. And she was at a loss of how to free them- or even get back to them- especially now she had a bloody statue hovering over her.

Urgh, life sucked.

The statue placed a hand on her back and began to steer her from the room. _The compass!_ "No! Wait, I um… I forgot my… uh…" The statue continued to guide her to the exit. "…Underwear!" Emma finally blurted out panicked.

The statue stopped moving allowing Emma to slip from its grasp; it turned to watch as she hurried over to the bed where her clothes were piled. She was uncomfortably aware of its gaze. While she wasn't a hundred per cent sure it would tell Rothbart about the compass; she wasn't even really sure if it would realise the compass was important, she still didn't want to risk the statue seeing it.

"Uh, a little privacy…?" She said with as much force as she could, as if she could will the bloody thing to turn around with nothing but determination.

It stared for a moment, but eventually it turned its back to her. Emma very nearly sighed aloud in relief… As it was, she hurriedly sifted through her clothes until she came across her jacket. She pulled the compass free and was about to slip the golden chain over her neck when she realised what she was wearing. Shit. She glanced down at herself, where could she possibly hide the compass?

In the corset…? She looked down at her chest. Uh… that didn't seem likely, she was squished in enough as it was.

The scarf still tied around her palm caught her attention.

Oh… this was a bad idea… but it was the only one she had.

She loosened the knot carefully, her eyes glued to the statues back watching for the slightest sign of movement. Nothing….

She sat on the edge of the bed and hiked up the dress along with the multitude of undercoats until her thigh was bare. Keeping one eye on the statue she wrapped the scarf around her thigh, slipping the compass between the fabric and her skin before pulling it as tight as she could without cutting of her circulation. Cautiously she rose to her feet. It felt a little odd… She jumped up and down on the spot…. But it appeared to do the trick… for the time being at least. The statue began to turn and Emma hurriedly dropped the dress back to the floor.

"Okay, time to go." Emma said; wincing as it came out slightly louder than she intended. She brushed past the statue and swept out into the corridor, not noticing –or caring- when her dress fanned out magnificently behind her.

As she walked she took the time to inspect the cut from the bean stalk; as this was the first time she'd seen it since Hook had wrapped it for her. Thankfully it had scabbed over, and there wasn't any pain- not that she thought there would be, it really was just a scratch, the whole scarf and rum thing had been overkill. She just thought it had just been an excuse for Hook to invade her personal space with stupid smouldering looks without her pulling away. She curled her hands into fists and rolled her eyes. Stupid bloody pirates…

~O~

It was every bit at pompous as Emma predicted. Glistening chandeliers, polished marble pillars, golden plates of food carried around by impeccably dressed waiters. Rothbart even had a bloody orchestra situated in the centre of the room. She looked around in distaste, overkill. If Rothbart thought to impress her, and somehow win her over he was going about it the wrong way. That said, nothing short of removing his curse and letting her go was going to even slightly endear him to her, so she supposed he may as well fight the losing battle with style- not that she considered this _style_.

Stealing herself, she was about to move further into the room when she realised it was too quiet… Confused she glanced around the room, something wasn't right… no one was talking… The room was full of dancing couples and people grouped in little clusters but the ballroom was silent, save for the orchestra's gentle haunting melody. The hum of idle chatter was missing which gave the room an awkward stillness to it, even though everyone was moving.

Oh god. They were all statues. There were hundreds of them, spinning and twirling in complete silence, their faces frozen; emotionless in their timeless solidity. Emma shivered, it was flipping creepy- and also slightly terrifying, like those nightmares you get. The ones where you're aware it's a dream, aware that something awful is about to happen but you can't wake up, or stop yourself from moving through each scene- bound by an unknown force….keep going…just keep going…

And she had nothing, no gun or sword. No weapon with which to sooth her fears- hell anything would do, just to know that she would have some way of defending herself…

But she had _nothing_. She was simply Emma; a girl from the real world, trapped in a world full of things she couldn't possibly hope to fight. How was she supposed to defend against magic? For all her bravado, for all her reckless courage, she was out of her depth, and this ball. This stupid room, with its finery and its magic, only reinforced her vulnerability- and her large dress, with the numerous undercoats and layers, suddenly seemed far too thin a wall to hide behind. Her hand trembled. Maybe this was what he wanted, perhaps Rothbart wanted to show her how defenceless and terribly naïve she really was… and ultimately how, alone, she had no hope of escaping him.

She fisted her hand; stilling the quivering fingers against her palm. She wasn't alone, Mary Margaret was here, trapped for the time being, but if falling through the portal had showed her anything, it was that Snow white was not a damsel in distress. And maybe Mulan was right, perhaps she should trust her mother- because so far Mary Margaret had shown, repeatedly, that she wasn't leaving Emma behind. And for perhaps the first time in her life, the thought of trusting someone else- her mother- wasn't completely terrifying, in fact- it was slightly uplifting.

Cautiously she moved through the crowd, half expecting Rothbart to appear at her side at any moment. However, he remained absent, and after a while Emma began to feel self-conscious. She didn't know what to do with her-self and she didn't feel comfortable just stood randomly by a pillar- but there was no way in hell that she was dancing.

She spotted the refreshments table and wasted no time in making her way over to the rows of glasses. She inspected them shrewdly. They were all filled with a light coloured liquid. That had to be champagne right? Surely alcohol would be the same in both worlds. She was about to glance around, to see whether anyone else was drinking- to check it was actually safe when she almost face-palmed. Could statues even drink?

She didn't think so, but then why-?

Why have a table full of refreshments if it would go to waste. Maybe it was simply to add to the overall effect of a ball, but the tingly feeling on the back of her neck wouldn't allow her to so much as entertain the _idea_ of drinking from a glass. She turned from the table mournfully, now she was going to have to get through the night sober. Urgh.

She looked around helplessly…Or not.

She slowly made her way over to the corner of the room, wearily admitting to herself that this was probably one of her worst ideas, and she wasn't really even sure how her presence would be received… but after the day she'd had, she couldn't bring herself to care.

She didn't even care that he was here, or what it meant. He had alcohol that was safe- if not foolhardy to drink and at that exact moment in time, it was exactly what she needed.

She reached down, plucked the bottle of rum from his grasp; downed a sizable amount, then slid carelessly down the wall to sit beside him on the floor. Her dress puffed out, and with the welcome burn of alcohol in her throat she casually patted it down.

"At last, a woman who can drink, and here I thought I'd be in for a dull night…" He trailed off as recognition flared in his eyes. "Swan." He finished murderously.

"Hook." She acknowledged, and proceeded to help herself to another swig of rum.

She saw him open his mouth out of the corner of her eye and realised he was either going to yell at her for leaving him behind, or make some lewd comment about her dress. She wasn't in the mood for either. Regretfully she thrust the bottle in his direction. "Either you take it, drink and shut up, or I leave to find my own corner of the room to hide in- and I'll take the rum with me."

He took the bottle, not bothering to point out it was his rum in the first place, and Emma was oddly grateful.

"This isn't over." He stated, but for the moment allowed the subject to drop. She watched him raise the rum to his lips, his eyes not for a moment leaving hers and she suddenly wished she'd let him speak, because now the darkening of his gaze became all the more ominous.

As he passed the bottle back, his fingers brushing hers, Emma became all the more aware of the soft material of his scarf tied around her thigh, and as the burn of the alcohol finally began to creep in on her senses she realised she should have just drank the bloody champagne and damned the consequences because this cannot possibly end well.

She didn't ask him why he was at Rothbarts ball. She didn't ask him where Cora was. She knew she wouldn't like the answer. She also didn't attempt to explain herself, or her actions when she left him up the beanstalk, knowing that whatever explanation she gave would have little meaning to a man with no children on a quest for revenge. Instead she sat in silence, passing the bottle backwards and forwards between them, idly wondering how long this tentative peace would last.

~O~

Killian leant his head back against the cold stone wall, hoping that the bitter chill of the stone would help knock some bloody sense into his head. He steadfastly ignored the woman to his right.

For heaven's sake she'd left him up a bloody bean stalk. It was not something he was about to forget in a hurry. He owed her nothing. He owed her less than nothing. Well actually, he owed _her_ the nasty sting of betrayal.

So typically, instead of rubbing in her misfortune, and making sure she knew exactly how badly she'd screwed up by leaving him behind, he was sharing a bottle with her… He was a sorry excuse for a pirate.

Emma _bloody_ Swan. He'd said it once; and he'd say it again, women are dangerous creatures -and this one was a sodding princess. That nugget of information had been a hard pill to swallow. A princess?! How in the innermost circle of bloody hell was she a princess? She was the most infuriating, closed off, distrustful woman he'd ever met and that was saying something; he'd frequented Tortuga a_ lot_ in his youth.

Up until now he hadn't fully accepted that she was a princess, because she sure as hell hadn't acted like one. Neither had her mother for that matter, he supposed it ran in the family and he was still finding it difficult to get his head around _that _one. Still he'd flirted and _invited_…

Killian thumped his head against the wall.

She wasn't supposed to best him. Up on the bean stalk, she wasn't supposed to leave him behind. But she had, and he still couldn't work out why. They'd gotten the compass. She'd had the giant wrapped around her sodding little finger. Then the mutinous wench chained him to the goddamn wall. And when he'd finally been released it had taken him almost every dirty trick in the book to sway Cora away from the thought of killing him. Bugger it, he still wasn't sure the witch had fully abandoned the idea- she could still simply be using him until the compass was safely in her grasp before she readdressed his attempted treachery.

They'd searched Emma's room shortly after the encounter with Snow White and the others. Idly, Killian thought as he glanced at Emma, he could almost see where she got her feistiness from. Still, the compass had yet to be found and, as he appraised Emma's figure, seemed likely to remain hidden unless the lass confessed to where ever she'd stashed the thing. If the same stubbornness ran in the family, as he presumed it did, then that wasn't likely to happen. Not unless Cora resorted to underhand measures in an attempt to get Emma to confess- but seeing how well it had worked with the three women in the dungeon even that method didn't seem as if it would be overly affective.

He almost groaned in frustration. _Women_. Why in the seven hells they couldn't all get over to this Storybrooke without killing each other was beyond him. Sure there was that good and evil bullshit, but couldn't that be dealt with later- When his task was not threatened by their senseless hormonal mood swings?

Reluctantly he once again appraised his drinking partner, accepting the bottle without a word and helping himself to a sizable gulp. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips and passed it back. He didn't understand her. In his years of plundering and pillaging he'd stumbled across many things that unsettled his mind- magic being the most notable. But he couldn't recall a woman ever offering the same trouble. They were all the same, no matter how loudly they protested against it- romantics at heart; their anger tempered by sweet words and distrust swayed in the face of charming smiles. Miliah herself had protested, at first, refusing to be lumped with the rest of her gender but even she'd been defenceless to his charm. Their relationship had been wild and ardent from the very first meeting, but gradually it had softened –calmed- into murmured endearments and comforting touches.

Though, he recalled fondly, love had been a shock. Perhaps it shouldn't have been, months of open water with a beautiful woman who had fire enough in her to scorch the ocean. She'd enraptured him, utterly and completely.

Perhaps she'd bewitched him. So entirely, that he hadn't looked- okay he hadn't touched another woman since her death. So furious was his hatred for Rumplestiltskin. But old desires were stirring, no longer held at bay by the encompassing need to end the dark one's life.

His eyes traced Emma's neck down to the juncture where it met her shoulder, before slipping easily down across her collar bone. He found himself watching the swell of her breast, captivated by the steady rise and fall as she breathed; utterly unaware of his attention. He wondered, idly if her skin felt as smooth as it looked….

No. He refused to follow that train of thought. It didn't matter. He was a pirate and she was a flipping princess. Not that he had any intention other than, well, bedding the lass… it had been _years_ since he last indulged with the soft warmth of a woman… but he was quickly beginning to realise that Emma was not a predictable woman, and his reactions to her were also less than predictable. Killian was all for uncharted waters, but this was uncharted water in a storm… It put the wind up him to say the least. No, for the time being he'd steer clear, he didn't want her complicating things more than she already had. He had the Dark one to kill.

He unconsciously traced the tattoo decorating his forearm, even as he eyes returned to the mesmerizing woman beside him. Damn it. He reached out and, ignoring her protest, stole the bottle half way to Emma's lips. A string of whispered profanities tumbled from his lips in quick succession between large mouthfuls of the burning liquid. _Bloody women._

~O~

Emma didn't immediately notice Rothbart's grand entrance, he could have performed some boy-band dance number and she wouldn't have been any the wiser, she did however notice when Hook, cussing colourfully under his breath, reclaimed the half empty bottle of rum and disappeared from her side. With a good deal of rum induced bravery Emma got to her feet as the crazed magician approached her.

"Emma," He purred, making no effort to hide his unashamed pleasure at her attire. "Emma, Emma, Emma…" His tongue warped the words, making her name sound revered even as the repetition ensnared her appellation twisting it as though she belonged to him. His hands were gentle as they steered her away from the corner yet his eyes were alight with power. He was a mess of contradictions, which made his obvious insanity all the more frightening.

"Rothbart." She said cautiously, wondering what he could possibly have in store for her now. She wasn't in the mood for games.

~O~

"Did you get it?"

"She doesn't have it."

"Don't be silly dear Captain, of course she has it. It wasn't in her room."

"Unless she's got pockets in that dress of hers, I highly doubt I could have missed it. There is _literally_ no where she could have stashed it." And Killian wasn't lying, tight fitted, with a bountiful amount of skin on display, the dress didn't hide much, let alone a compass.

"You aren't trying to help her are you? You remember she was the one who left you up that beanstalk. She almost cost you your revenge." Cora murmured sweetly, her soft tone doing nothing to hide the implications. Aye, he was aware he'd narrowly escaped death at the bottom of the bean stalk, their past being the main cause for his continued presence at her side. However he was under no illusions. The ground beneath his feet was fragile and Cora was making sure to keep him unbalanced. However he did not care for her continued threats.

Killian bowed mockingly, extending one arm in the direction of the pair making their way around the room, his other held out for her to take "By all means, if you think me a liar…"

He wasn't surprised when she took it, allowing him to guide her through the sea of statues towards their host and miss swan. For all Cora's power, she remained a woman. Killian slid the bottle of magic dust unnoticed from her coat pocket and into his own. In the end Cora was just a gullible in the face of his facade as the rest of her gender.

~O~

AN: I am so sorry. I had assignments due in early Decemember, then it was Christmas; and family can be exhausting, great fun, but exhausting. Also I can't help but feel this chapter is still missing something... as such I'm not completely happy with it, but I really wanted to update with *something* before I get all caught up with uni again. Hopefully the next chapter shouldn't take anywhere near this long. (A third of it was written before this one, lol). I apologize again for its lateness and filler-ness but urgh, sometimes my brain just isn't willing to cooperate with my laptop. *sigh* I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas, and that the new years been brilliant, so far, and continues to be.

Thanks for reading ^_^

Also as always, I suck at spotting typo's, so I apologize for those as well :)


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Um, I feel almost like I should explain my 'take' on Hook, but I don't want to give too much away for this chapter, so i'll stick a brief explanation at the end, so I guess this is me just asking you to have an open mind.

Also, I know this took a hell of a long time, hopefully the wait has been worth it, but more likely it was just a little too long to wait for a chapter, so i'll endeavour to do better. :)

Also, as PeaceHeather pointed out, Hook talking about hormonal mood swings last chapter was a bit of a blunder on my part, I try to prevent my silly modern day sayings and ways of describing things from slipping into Hook's POV's but as a few people have noticed, I fail a little :P Hopefully as the I move through later chapters this will become less frequent... possibly. However, please continue to point them out! Most of the time I honestly don't even notice.

Enjoy!

~O~

"I have a surprise for you," Rothbart whispered gleefully, guiding Emma closer to the doors, through the mass of silent, moving, statues. "I must admit I had hoped they would be here to greet you, but it seems they're taking an exceptionally long time getting ready."

A kindle of hope stirred in her chest. "They…?"

"Why your mother and fellow companions of course." He grinned, apparently pleased by her expression. "Won't it be nice to see them one last time?"

She recoiled. "One last time?"

"Well yes, I see no plausible reason to keep them here." He grabbed her hand, and for a moment she was too stunned to remove it from his grasp. "It'll only encourage escape attempts, no. It is much better if we rid ourselves of the problem as soon as possible."

"_Rid ourselves_…" She repeated dumbly.

"But I am not unkind, I'll give you tonight to say your farewells- and of course to show your mother you will be well taken care of."

Emma couldn't believe it. Did he seriously think this was some form of kindness? She slowly pulled her hand from his and curled her arms around her waist, hugging herself as she attempted to make sense of exactly what was going on.

She swallowed heavily. "What did you mean when you said 'rid ourselves'… you don't mean…" She trailed off, fearing the worst. The soothing buzz the rum had given her had all but receded.

"An old friend has agreed to take them off my hands." He answered happily, still ignorant to her inner turmoil.

Their conversation was cut short as two figures cut across their path, but Emma found herself unable to care, still reeling from Rothbarts latest "surprise".

"Ah, Cora, there you are. Allow me to introduce," Emma felt herself tugged forward. "My new Princess…"

Thankfully the dirty look she shot Rothbart wasn't missed by either Cora or Hook—which granted wasn't the most important thing right now, but she didn't want them thinking she was happy with the situation. She had no desire to be _anyone's_ princess.

For the time being she pushed the previous conversation from her thoughts, she'd need all her concentration to deal with Cora. She also noticed, with amusement, that Rothbart had completely blanked Hook. Her eyes darted between the two—there had to be a story there.

She fought the desire to roll her eyes as Hook swept into a mocking bow. "Milady."

Cora, however, was in no mood for games. "Where's the compass dear?"

Emma forced herself not to look down at her dress, and the compass hidden beneath it. Here we go.

"Somewhere you'll never find it." And Cora wouldn't, unless of course she decided to frisk her which, you know, would make for an interesting story to tell once this mess was over. Touched up by Regina's mum, it was bound to get a chuckle out of someone; most likely Ruby. Though the more she thought about it, the less amusing Emma thought it would actually be, not that she was a stranger to frisking. Her stint in jail had seen to that; and her previous job as a bail bonds woman- and now sheriff- had shown her that frisking is equally uncomfortable on both sides of the fence.

Cora's expression remained passive and her tone was as smooth and as sweet as honey. "I am merely giving you the chance to avoid a great deal of discomfort."

"Cora," Rothbart murmured warningly.

Emma felt Rothbart step closer to her, attempting to curl his arm around her waist. She shrugged him off. She was sick and tired of him pretending this was anything more than a hostage situation. "If you think for one _second_ that I'm letting you anywhere near that compass then you really are crazy."

"My dear, surely you must realise you are never leaving this place."

Emma's jaw clenched. There was no way she was remaining here. Her son was waiting for her in Storybrooke, and no one, gifted with magic or otherwise was going to stand in her way. Granted she didn't yet have an escape plan, but that was still work in progress. Even her fear of Rothbart was gradually receding. She'd dealt with people far more intimidating than the crazed magician in her life. True, his magic was an issue, but that was all. If he didn't have it she'd have knocked him out hours ago. It was only a matter of time before she found her way around his supernatural advantage.

After all, her parents had stopped Regina at some point before the curse. So there must be _some_ way to fight against magic. There _had_ to be and Emma would find it. She refused to abandon her son so soon after finding him again.

She forced herself to shrug casually. "We'll see."

She ignored Rothbart's warning 'Emma'.

"Oh no," Cora continued. "I don't think you get it at all, Rothbart is has magic, dear. You can't fight against magic. I'd say you are completely out of your depth."

It was a struggle to keep her emotions from playing out across her face, but Emma refused to let Cora see how close to mark she was. She wouldn't let any of them know how Cora's words seemed to echo her own thoughts almost perfectly.

She quirked an eyebrow, attempting to mask the sinking feeling in her gut with outward bravado.

"Between the two of us," Emma said bluntly, casually shutting both Rothbart and Hook out of the conversation, "One has magic, and the other has the compass." She grinned. "I think I can handle myself."

"Oh my dear, you really believe that don't you."

She paused, thinking back to earlier by the lake, the power Rothbart had over her, the pain he'd caused. She suppressed a shiver. "I have to."

Cora simply shook her head, "How about this, I'll make you a deal…"

"I don't make deals with psychopaths." Well, that was a slight lie, but she didn't think Gold was worth mentioning right now.

"Just hear me out. Give me the compass..." Cora continued, smiling pleasantly. "And I'll help you escape."

All the thoughts running through Emma's head screeched to a halt. _What?_

It seemed Emma wasn't the only one floored by Cora's words. Both Rothbart and Hook turned to stare at the aging woman, surprise and confusion clear across both their features. Cora used the moment of surprise to her advantage. Quick as a whip her hand shot outwards, palm up and confident in its movement. Rothbart sailed backwards through the air. He hit the wall with a blunt finality and dropped to the floor, landing in a crumpled heap.

The statues that had been idly spinning around them froze and the last wavering notes from the orchestra hovered teasingly in the air. Then as the musical notes finally faded into silence a single grating noise filled the room…

Each and every stone head turned simultaneously to face Cora.

Okay, Emma thought, glancing about nervously, this wasn't likely to end well.

Hook, no doubt sensing trouble, extracted his arm from Cora's grip and took a measured step away from the woman at the centre of the room's attention.

"What will it be dear?" Cora continued mildly, as though she hadn't just lobbed a clearly unstable sorcerer across the room.

"I think you're insane." Emma replied, staring open mouthed at Cora's relaxed demeanour. Was this really happening?

The older woman once again flicked her palm, this time in Emma's direction, and the blonde found herself unable to move: again.

Emma _hated_ magic. Hated the way it reduced average people to nothing. Before Storybrooke she'd been confidant in her abilities, confidant that she could get herself out of any and all sticky situations she fell into. Her time in Storybrooke changed that- her time around _magic_ changed that. Who would have thought that magic, something every kid dreams about at some point or another, was something that could _take away_ a person's confidence so easily?

"You have three seconds to either give me the compass or tell me where it is, before I rip your pretty little heart out."

Again Emma found lips moving before her brain had fully caught up. "I'd like to see you try."

"Foolish and naïve..." Cora said, shaking her head. "Just like your mother."

Emma's brain was working overtime, desperately trying to find some way out of the magical stasis she'd been placed in. From the base of her neck down she couldn't move. She could barely feel her fingertips and it was with a sinking feeling in her chest that she watched Cora approach her. Her heart was going to be taken from her, and there was nothing she could do about it. Ridiculously, she wondered if it would hurt, or if she'd die quickly…

A smirk danced along Cora's lips. "Soon, you'll not only give me the compass, but you'll also tell me everything I want to know about your precious Storybrooke."

"What?" Emma gasped, straining helplessly against the magic that held her captive. Outwardly she didn't even twitch.

"Oh, oh my poor sweet thing, you really thought it would be over that quickly." Cora murmured amused, her fingers danced lightly over Emma's chest. It was a strange sensation; she felt her body try to suck in a startled breath even though it couldn't…felt herself recoil from the warm fingertips grazing over her skin even as she didn't actually move. It almost hurt. "No dear, once your heart is in my possession you'll become my ally. A thrall, enslaved to my will. You won't have a choice."

Helplessly Emma looked around, searching for something to aid her.

"You should have just given me the compass." Cora whispered finally, drawing Emma's attention back to her.

Emma shook her head furiously, even as the futility of her continued denial began to settle in her mind.

In a few moments it was entirely possible that she'd do far worse than simply abandoning her son, instead she was likely to betray him. No matter what Cora asked, if Emma told her anything about Storybrooke, anything about the people her son cared for, it would be a betrayal. Every fibre of her being rebelled against the idea, refusing to believe it possible -_she wouldn't- _but as the pressure from Cora's withered fingers increased she realised, with sickening clarity, that there would be nothing she could do to stop herself.

Please, don't let me betray Henry, she begged silently. She'd never believed in a higher power, not many who'd lived her kind of life did, but now she wished desperately for something…anything.

_Don't let me betray my son._

Outwardly she raised her chin, her words laced with desperation- and defiance. "It doesn't matter what you do to me. My friends will stop you."

Emma refused to close her eyes, she continued to stare defiantly at Cora even as she felt the pressure on her chest build- almost to breaking point. She wouldn't hide from this. She refused to appear beaten. She wouldn't tell Cora anything about Storybrooke just as she refused to tell Cora about the compass still tied to her thigh. Magic be damned, Emma refused to let it beat her.

"Get. The. _Hell._ Away from _my_ daughter."

Relief, such stark, uncontrollable relief flooded through Emma's body as her eyes searched for the speaker…

… And there she was.

Mary Margaret; practically radiating beauty and strength in a stunning golden gown, bow drawn with an arrow pointed unwaveringly at Cora's back. Beside her stood Mulan and then, slightly behind the warrior was Aurora. The young brunette looked slightly less confidant than the other two; she kept shooting uneasy glances at Cora and Hook, but while one hand clasped her pale blue dress; the fabric as delicate looking as the princess herself, the other awkwardly held a small sword. Emma couldn't remember feeling more touched. All her life she'd felt alone- but now she had not one, but three brave, beautiful, women ready to face off against a sorceress for her.

"Mom." It slipped out, quietly and completely without reason between her parted lips and oh god- had magic not been holding her upright Emma was sure she would have slumped to the floor from the sheer vastness of her feelings—it felt _right_. Whatever barrier had stood between then dissolved into nothing as Emma finally realised -finally- just how fiercely her mother was ready to fight for her—had _always_ been ready to fight for her…

But Emma didn't have a chance to witness her mother charging into save the day, because the instant the word "Mom" had slipped from her lips an unholy screech erupted behind her.

"No! You will not take my princess from me!" A stone hand clamped down on Cora's arm, dragging it away from Emma's chest, and the sorceress was tossed- none to gently- across the room. "She is mine and she _will always be mine._"

Immediately the spell holding Emma hostage broke, and pathetically it was _then_ that her legs decided to give way. Actually it turned out to be rather luckily, because Cora recovered far quicker than Rothbart had, and the statue exploded, sending debris flying, the majority flew straight over Emma's head.

However, one particularly sharp shard caught Emma's cheek. Gasping she raised her fingers to her face, wincing as she probed the cut. Ouch. Damn that hurt. And ick, there was blood on her fingers. Not much, but enough for Emma to pull a face. She unceremoniously wiped her fingers clean on her dress.

"I said, stay the hell away from my daughter." Mary Margaret's murderous tones carried across the ballroom.

Emma watched as Cora's hands sizzled with purple lightning. The older woman turned away from Emma, moving instead to face the three in the doorway. "Fine, I'll deal with you first."

It possibly wasn't the smartest of plans, turning your back on Rothbart, but Emma didn't get the chance to ponder Cora's actions further as footsteps echoed behind her, and she was roughly hauled to her feet. "I told you, you are never leaving me, _never_. I won't lose another one." Rothbart practically growled in her face.

Emma watched stunned as the unhinged crazy glint in his eye seemed to transform his entire face. The madness within clawed out it's pathway to the surface; tooth and nail, fang and claw. Something within him fought bitterly for complete control, and the fool- the complete idiot of a magician, welcomed the madness; the unrestrained insanity that he held inside.

From her close proximity, not more than a hair's breathe from his body, she saw the moment he gave in, the moment he allowed someone-

No.

_Something_ else to fight his battle for him…

The whites of his eyes seemed to collapse in on his dark iris's, diluting and tainting. Yellow puss began to bubble from his tear ducts, staining his yes with each blink until the black pupil remained alone against a dirty yellow back drop.

His features contorted, his face twisting in discomfort as his teeth sharpened and elongated and his jaw cracked- breaking as it shifted to accommodate the growing snout from his lower face region.

More horrifically, through it all, the insane bastard was _grinning_; mouth wide, freshly grown incisors gleaming in the candle light. Emma could see it in his mutated eyes, he was enjoying this. This sick, twisted transformation from man to… whatever he would be would become, he loved it. Somehow power had become so important to him, he'd forgotten the transformation left his humanity behind, warped by a thirst for what?

…To retain _possessions…?_

She gasped, wrenching her arm away as his fingers clicked and snapped, popping in and out of place as he continued to change, jagged nails reached for her clumsily as he bent backwards on himself, twisting and convulsing as his spine moulded itself into something new- something dangerous.

"Oh my god…"

He didn't scream though. Even as Emma looked on in horror, hands covering her mouth in disgust, Rothbart didn't scream.

Instead he laughed. Loud and echoing; it made her skin crawl.

With startling clarity she realised he didn't leave his humanity behind… the creature he was becoming wasn't a warped manifestation of his darkest self. It was him, all of him. He was utterly and completely, one hundred per cent, conscious of what he was doing.

Emma felt sick.

For a spilt second- and only a second- Emma was glad he'd chosen to turn her into a swan… because _Christ_… what if he'd turned her into…_that_.

It was grotesque. A fearsome fusion of creatures; wolf, bat, owl, lizard…

Then he was facing her again, eye dancing with power and rage. He- _It_ shrugged its broad shoulders, casually unfurling the colossal leathery wings from its back. They slumped, lazily curling outwards across the floor, like fingernails scrapping along wood- a menacingly low sound, almost disarmingly gentle on her ears.

The _click_ of Emma's heels as she backed away echoed sharply through the air in contrast.

His attention was focused on her, both eyes burning holes into her skin as if daring her to make another move- to take another step away from him.

_Of course_ she matched the challenge in his eyes. She was Emma Swan and she _refused_ to be his Princess, or his hostage, or his plaything.

"Don't…" She heard Hook caution from somewhere behind her- but whatever he meant to add, if he even meant to add anything, was lost in a whirl of wings and shrieks as Emma, defiantly, slid her foot further behind her.

Rothbart dove at her, knocking her to the floor as he turned snarling and snapping to face both Cora and the group of woman at the other end of the hall. She raised her head from the ground, and was surprised to see her friends had separated; Mulan was currently battling Cora, her sword deflecting wave after wave of magic, while her mother had moved closer, confidently taking aim in the face of Rothbart's snarls. Aurora was nowhere to be seen.

Emma heard footsteps from nearby, followed by a gasp of pain that could really have only come from Hook being knocked from the immediate vicinity. At least she hoped it was Hook, she didn't think Aurora was foolish enough to get so close to Rothbart.

She managed to roll herself onto her back noticing the thing- whatever it was Rothbart had become was stood over her; mockingly protective. She twisted around searching for something to help her get out of this rather precarious situation…

The broken arm of a statue lay enticingly just out of reach. She stretched as far as she could; wiggling her fingertips as she slowly inched her way along the ground trying not to draw attention to movements. Just a little further….

Rothbart howled in pain, staggering backwards, almost trampling Emma in the process. A bloodied arrow tail dropped to the ground by her head. She glanced at it for all of two seconds before she gave up being cautious. Screw it. She rolled, felt the smooth marble against her palm, grabbed and swung.

Rothbart shrieked. Leathery wings pumped in surprise, and he was airborne; the high ceiling of the ball room proving advantageous. The screeching continued as he circled high above them, his monstrous wings generating huge gusts of wind which doused the candles lighting the extravagant chandelier.

How were they supposed to fight that thing? Emma looked around helplessly. She was in a dress for crying out loud. Did the universe hate her or something? The marble arm dangled uselessly in her grasp.

"Emma! Look out!"

What? She turned, searching for Mary Margaret.

"Swan!" She was tackled to the floor, _again_, and rolled out of the way just as the chandelier came crashing down where she'd been stood only moments before. Concentrate Emma, she internally berated herself; the middle of a freaking battle field was not the place to lose focus.

She glanced up at her rescuer. Hook. Of freakin' course it was. She didn't manage to stifle the groan that escaped her lips.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. You can thank me later." Wink.

She pushed him off her and sat up, scanning the room for her mom and the others. She couldn't see them. In the mist of exploding statues, purple smoke and random bursts of fire and lightning the ballroom had gone from an over the top party to a battlefield.

And her hands were empty, well that was just perfect… she'd lost the damn marble arm… she needed a new weapon… preferably something actually useful.

"Ouch… What are you-?"

"You're bleeding." His hand cupped her cheek gently; his attention focused on the cut marring her skin. She'd completely forgotten about it.

Emma shooed his hand away. "What can crazy sorcerer's smell blood too? Well, forget it buddy, you're all out of scarfs." She got to her feet. "You can be a gentleman later." Really, she thought, beyond flummoxed, he was going to distract her with his gorgeous eyes now? He needed to sort out his priorities, this was getting ridiculous.

"That a promise?"

Emma refused to dignify that with an answer.

"I'm borrowing this." She said, not giving him a chance to protest as she stole his sword and hurried off to find her mother.

~O~

Well, his suspicions had been correct… he'd found the compass. He recalled the slight bump against his leg as he rolled them out from beneath the falling chandelier.

Killian's eyes followed Emma's movements as she hurried away from him; weaving in and out of the multiple statues no longer moving. His gaze lingered specifically on her dress and the myriad of fabric flaring out behind her.

She really was something. Somehow the compass was safely tied around her leg. Brains and looks. She'd make a bloody good pirate… a bloody dangerous one too.

He watched as she ducked, Rothbart's animal form sweeping low overhead. Blasted wench was going to get herself killed. He took off after her. Hoping she stayed alive long enough for him to retrieve the compass… He didn't quite feel comfortable with the idea of looting her corpse.

He had come to realise, as he lost sight of her pale form in the chaos erupting around them, that he also felt distinctly _uncomfortable_ with the thought of her death at all.

~O~

"This is madness!" Emma exclaimed as she finally reached Mary Margaret, the latter tugged her down to take refuge behind the bottom half of an exploded pillar.

"Welcome home," Mary Margaret muttered, peeking around the marble.

Emma blinked there was something in her mother's tone that didn't quite add up…. "Oh my god, you're enjoying this aren't you."

"Don't be silly, we're all in danger." Mary Margaret said quickly; too quickly.

Emma continued to stare at her.

"Okay, maybe a little," She confessed, "but it's been so long since I've been on a proper adventure, I didn't exactly fight dragons as 'Miss Blanchard'."

Emma turned away, shaking her head. "This family is crazy- actually crazy."

Her mother just smiled sheepishly.

"What's with the dress anyway?" Emma asked, "You had time to find your weapons but not your clothes?"

Mary Margaret fired an arrow over the edge of the pillar before responding. "We passed Rothbart's quarters on the way from our room- the overconfident fool left the door open. Mulan got the jump on the statue and here we are- just in time might I add, or would you rather we turned up _after_ Cora had taken your heart?"

Properly chastened Emma shook her head, "No, sorry. Thanks for saving me."

Mary Margaret smiled gently, "It's what families are for."

Fireballs whizzed over their heads. Cora apparently had a new target.

"Run." Mary Margaret hissed, shoving Emma to the side as the pillar they'd been hiding behind exploded.

Stumbling on the edge of her dress, Emma managed to find cover behind an upturned table. "I wish people would stop bloody shoving me."

Emma took a deep breath to sooth her nerves, then she turned and peaked over the top of her newest shelter. She could just about make out the edge of her mothers' dress, poking out from behind a pillar. She huffed. It seemed getting separated was also a running theme in their family.

A scuffle towards the back of the room caught her attention. It appeared Rothbart had turned his anger towards Hook. Emma winced and guiltily adjusted her grip on the pirates' sword. Oops.

She hurriedly scanned the room, seeking a safe path to the leather clad idiot attempting to fend off a mutated beast with nothing but a tiny hook. She refused to feel guilty that she'd stolen his only other method of defending himself- he's a bloody pirate, what use is only carrying one sword? Shouldn't he have a scary looking knife in his boot or something? A Hook for a hand could really only get you so far. It seemed she was going to have to save his stupid pirate ass-

"I suggest you turn around dear, and slowly."

Emma froze, recognising Cora's lethargic tones. Slowly she turned, clambering to stand. She refused to remain crouched at Cora's feet.

She visibly recoiled from the sight that greeted her. Oh… shit.

Aurora struggled in Cora's grip, the latter's hand fisted in the young princess's hair.

"Let her go." Emma snarled, tightening her grip on the sword, but otherwise not moving for fear of causing the young woman harm.

"I think I'll give the commands here dear, drop the sword."

It clattered noisily to the floor.

"Good, now, where's the compass?"

"Don't tell h-" A sharp tug on her hair stalled Aurora's words.

"-" Emma floundered helplessly, because even as her brain told at her- screamed at her, that this was Cora, and handing the compass over meant a dangerous sorceress would make it to Storybrooke, one person could not possibly measure up when weighed against a town full of people… her heart simply sighed in defeat. It didn't matter that part of her knew Cora would probably harm Aurora anyway- purely out of spite. She couldn't—wouldn't risk the young woman's life.

Emma inclined her head; surrendering.

The next instant her eyes snapped up, widening in pain. She lurched on the spot, chest gasping, as ice pierced her chest. She opened and closed her mouth, attempting to find words- and failing. Her gazed lowered, falling upon the arm protruding from her chest even as the purple smoke wavered tauntingly around her. She hadn't realised Cora could materialise so quickly.

"Wha-?" She wheezed, struggling for breath.

"No hard feelings dear, I just don't trust you." Cora smiled sweetly, her eyes as unyielding as the deceptively frail hand gripping Emma's heart.

It's stupid, but in the last moment before she felt Cora's fingers tighten; preparing to yank her still beating heart from her chest, she couldn't help but smile ruefully.

_It always came down to trust, didn't it?_

~O~

The Aurora girl screamed. Mercifully it was enough to distract Rothbart, halting his efforts in clawing off Killian's other hand. Using the disturbance to his advantage he shifted, sliding his hook into a better position to keep Rothbart's snarling jaws from closing around his head.

This was a bloody nightmare…

All he'd wanted was to grab the compass and split. He had no need of sorceress's or magicians- or a group of distrustful harpies either. No- he'd make his own way, as he always had. Allies were not always useful.

He kicked out, knocking Rothbart off balance. Hurriedly Killian scrambled to his feet.

The proof was all around him- allies only caused unnecessary trouble. Though this was a piss poor mockery of a fight, he'd seen tavern brawls turn out more carnage than this. This was simply two powerhouses playing a game of cat and mouse. He sneered as Rothbart once again took to the air. Coward; it was always the same, magicians fleeing from a good fight.

It took him longer than it should have to realise the cause of Rothbart's hasty departure. Longer still to realise exactly what his eyes were showing him.

Killian took a step forwards, unconsciously, shaking his head as if he could shake the image of Cora's arm, wrist deep in Emma Swan's chest, clean out of his head.

_No_.

~O~

For a second nothing happened, Emma felt Cora's hand tighten around her heart, felt the stinging pain of her heart being squeezed but then- nothing. She watched confusion spread across Cora's features. Curiously she glanced down, she watched as Cora's attempts to free her arm became increasingly more frantic.

"This—it's not possible…" Cora for once looked almost afraid, "You're weak…"

And after the day she'd had—no, after the _week_ she'd had, with ogres, beanstalks, giants, magic and curses, Emma had finally had enough. Perhaps she wasn't a sword wielding warrior, and perhaps she wasn't the best with a bow and arrow, and you know what, maybe she wasn't even good at building a camp fire out of sticks, but none of that mattered. Because when it came down to it, there was one thing she _was_ sure of, one thing that had kept her going through her time in prison and the years that followed.

_She was not weak._

"No." She said confidently, feeling that certainty building within her. "I'm not."

It exploded within her, that moment of complete faith in herself, a single moment, without doubt or fear. She was who she was, and Emma Swan was not afraid…

…And the room pulsed with it. Magic, pure and unsullied by cruel intend washed over every inch of Rothbarts castle, seeking and embracing any who had felt his malice. Her magic ripped away at his curse, turning the countless statues—embolden by his poisonous taint, to dust. It stretched the width of the lake, carefully peeling back layer after layer of possessive touch and thought, until the swans that had given Emma a clear birth, lest they seek the sorcerer's wrath, once again stood tall and unbound. Their aching muscles soothed by her strength. Their bodies once again wingless and free…

In the mist of her power, Cora and Rothbart did not go unnoticed. Once the castle had been properly cleansed, the force sweeping outwards turned its gaze inside the aged walls.

Rothbart yelped in fear as wave after wave of warmth stripped away at his beastly form, washing away his wings before his feet could properly touch the floor. He dropped the rest of the way, aided by undertones of magic far softer than anything he'd ever wielded, landing awkwardly but otherwise unharmed.

"Magic," he murmured, arm extended, reaching helplessly for Emma—remaining ever obsessed with the idea of her, even as she looked on in disgust. "I knew you had magic…You really are… the perfect princess…"

"I told you, I am _not_ a princess." And the next wave of magic didn't bother to hold back. Both Cora and Rothbart were lifted from their feet and slammed against the far wall; darkness welcomed them as they slid from consciousness.

"And I am by no mean's perfect." She added unnecessarily feeling, awkwardly, that something needed saying, before she turned to Aurora. "You alright…?"

She brunette nodded, "How did you…?" She trailed off awkwardly.

Emma shrugged, feeling the first aches of exhaustion beginning to settle over her limbs, "I have no idea."

"Emma." Her mother scrambled towards her, tossing her bow aside, arms outstretched. For the first time, Emma didn't feel uncomfortable as she fell into her mothers' embrace. She sighed, eyes sliding shut as she felt her mom wrap her arms tightly around her.

"You have magic," Mary Margaret breathed against her ear.

Fearing rejection, Emma pulled away, "I don't know how, I mean, I've never-"

She was tugged back into the hug. "You really are a miracle." The words were barely even whispered; Emma got the impression Mary Margaret hadn't even intended to voice them, so she simply pretended not to hear them, not wanting to spoil the moment by arguing that she was anything _but_ a miracle.

Her mothers' arms were sturdy and sure in their crushing embrace, and god did Emma cling to her—seeking the woman's warmth to ground her turbulent her thoughts. She had magic, how the hell did she have magic? To her knowledge neither of her parents had it and she was pretty sure she'd know about it if they had, as the curse likely never would have come to fruition. As if her life wasn't messed up enough as it was, but now she had an extra brand of crazy to add to her already complicated life.

She closed her eyes briefly, the momentary lull in activity had already brought her exhaustion back in full force—also for the record, wielding magic—so not as easy as Regina and Gold make it look… she was so, so tired.

Deciding it was a problem for tomorrow, when she'd gotten out of this blasted dress and hopefully gotten at least a few hours' sleep, maybe something to eat as well… Emma pushed the recent magic revelation to the back of her mind. It wasn't something she felt like facing at this point in time. Hey, when faced with a difficult decision, postponing said decision is a brilliant—and favoured—course of action.

When she'd finally managed to disentangle herself from Mary Margaret's arms she turned back to Aurora. Mulan had reached them at some point during the 'epic hug' and stood protectively to the left of the young princess. She looked a little worse for wear, her dress was scorched in places, and she was covered from head to toe in dust. Thankfully, Emma couldn't make out any cuts or scrapes, so it seemed she had been lucky in that regard. They all had.

She was about to offer up her thanks, to each of them for coming to rescue her- because, _hell they could have died_, and the fact that they came really does mean more to her than she can put into words.

Mulan, however, doesn't give her a chance to voice her thoughts. "What are we going to do about him?" The dark haired woman questioned, her sword still drawn and at the ready.

And there was another problem she didn't really feel like dealing with right now, but as she watched Hook navigate the newly destroyed ballroom, she got a familiar sinking feeling in her stomach as she realised she wasn't able to run from this one. Damn it.

She rubbed her eyes, "Hook."

"Swan," he answered levelly, eyes guarded as he stopped a safe distance from them.

Well, Emma thought, noticing his caution, at least they were both on the same page: completely oblivious to the others motive, and hesitant to lay their cards on the table. She felt the start of a headache coming.

"Quite remarkable lass, you bested Cora and Rothbart. I'd take my hat off to you—if I had one." His words were light, teasing, but he was an open book to her, something had shaken him, and if she was a betting woman (which she wasn't) she'd say he wasn't overly keen on the idea of her having magic. Well tough, neither was she, but it appeared it was something she was going to have to live with. She shook her head, too soon, far too soon to be thinking about magic and her life in the same sentence.

She decided to cut to the chase, "What do you want Hook?"

"We had a deal… before," He paused, perhaps he didn't think reminding her she'd left him behind was going to work in his favour. So he switched tactics, "I propose a new one."

"Why should we make any form of deal with you?" asked Mary Margaret, voicing Emma's own thoughts almost to the letter.

Hook, it seemed, wasn't in the mood to beat around the bush either, or maybe he simply recognised Emma's dwindling patients. "I have something you need."

"Oh?" The other three woman shifted to stand next to her, offering their support but otherwise remained silent.

Without his usual flare for the dramatics Hook reached inside his coat and withdrew a small bottle, filled with purple dust.

"Is that-?"

"The ashes from the wardrobe. Aye..."

"But how did you get them?" Mary Margaret questioned, taking a single step forward, reaching unconsciously for the last reminder of the wardrobe that saved her daughter.

Hook barely spared her a glance, his gaze; piercing and intense, remained focused on Emma. "I found myself in need of a little assurance."

So this was it, decision time. He didn't need to make his point; Emma knew his play without even needing to think. He had the ashes, they had the compass; an impasse. A tiny part of her mind whispered that there were four of them, and only one of him, they could take him- but the other part didn't wish to engage in yet another fight. It was all this world seemed to do. Everyone was in a constant battle for survival—it sucked.

He was watching her, his eyes, dark and veiled. Funny how she could read him so easily in some aspects yet could remain so clueless to the other thoughts swirling behind the façade. She didn't trust him. She knew that for certain, no matter the ease she'd felt around him up the beanstalk. Perhaps if the possibility of getting home wasn't swaying in the balance she'd feel more inclined to give him a chance, but this was important—this was about getting back to Henry.

Her reasons for leaving him behind were still valid. She couldn't risk being wrong about him. However, as she watched his fingers tighten on the bottle, she realised leaving him behind again wasn't an option. If she turned him on him now, she could was certain he wouldn't just hand over the bottle, more than anything she was pretty sure he'd toss it into a nearby pile of exploded statue, simply out of spite. Then their only hope of getting home would be gone.

No, it seemed there wasn't a choice. She took a deep breath. It seemed like Captain Hook was coming to Storybrooke.

"Fine. We have a deal; we'll all get back to Storybrooke. Now can we get going already, it probably won't be long until Cora and Rothbart wake up—and I'd prefer to be long gone by then."

"Not so fast love, we had a deal last time, but you went back on your word. I'll be needing something more this time."

Emma narrowed her eyes, she wasn't apologising if that's what he wanted. "And what's that?"

"I'll keep hold of the compass."

"But you have the ashes, isn't that _assurance_ enough?" Aurora asked logically, casting Hook a curious glance.

"The ashes merely open the portal; you have to be holding the compass when you go through otherwise you could get lost between worlds. No disrespect, but I'd rather not take my chances of being left behind, again."

He wanted the compass? Fine, he could have the bloody compass, but so help him if he tried to do a runner; she'd personally chop off the other hand and his legs too. She bent at the waist, grabbing the hem of her dress and roughly hiked it up her leg, feeling for the frayed edges of his scarf still safely tied around her thigh. Sodding pirates just had to make her day difficult.

She ignored Aurora's startled "Emma" as she exposed more leg to the room, and present company, than the young woman may have deemed decent, but she'd just taken out a shape shifting lunatic—baring a little thigh was the least of her concerns.

The compass was warm against her fingers, and she hesitated a moment as she tugged it loose. Was giving their ticket home to a pirate really the best idea?

_Try something new, darling. It's called trust._

Damn it. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid. She glanced over at Hook, running her gaze over his rugged appearance. He was a self-confessed thief. Emma gripped the compass in one hand the other rose to finger her swan pendant. Trusting people like him had never worked out well for her in the past. She swallowed heavily_. Please, don't let me be wrong about you._

She tossed him the compass.

~O~

Everywhere hurt. Each minute movement sent a spasm of pain shooting through his body. Oh, he _ached_. His head was throbbing; he could practically hear his blood pulsing in his ears. He tried to raise his hand but found his movements impaired by something… it felt like rope…What happened…

Emma!

His eyes snapped open.

"Sorry dear, but I need your power." Cora murmured her face inches from his. "Mine is not enough."

What? Groggily, he tried to comprehend… no!

He realised the danger too late. His mind still addled from the knock to the head, was too slow to raise his defences. Her fist plunged unthwarted into his chest. He watched, for the first time in his life helpless, as Cora's hand remerged seconds later, his heart beating steadily between her fingers.

Before he could properly comprehend the dire situation he'd suddenly found himself in, a cold numbness settled over his thoughts.

"Come along, Rothbart sweetheart, we have a compass to find." She clicked her fingers.

He glanced down watching with a sense of detached amusement as the ropes binding him to the pillar slithered away. Casually, without so much a thought to his own goals, he got to his feet and followed Cora from the hall.

Deep in the darkest recess of his mind, a beast, dark and fearsome threw itself repeatedly at an impenetrable wall, snarling and growling. Tooth and claw could only be held at bay for so long, and as the mist moved in overhead, it swore its vengeance.

~O~

AN: Okay, as many people have probably noticed, my Hook's a bit more of a dick than people usually write him. Hopefully you can all still see the sort of semi decent man underneath, but as I see it, at this point- he's still pretty hung up on murdering Gold. And I'm not entirely sure someone who is opening plotting murder is great boyfriend material... even in the show, I don't think Emma and Hook are ready yet. Their chemistry is _undeniable_, and I hope the writers go there one day, but I think at the moment, quite a few things need to change before we can have Captain Swan in all it's glory... NOT that I was say no to a few confused/upset/angry or pure you're hot smooches ;) hehe

Also, I'm enjoying Hook's various attempts at killing Gold, it's nice to have him in the way and causing havoc, mwaha ha ha ...

Uh, also the slight change with Emma's magic taking out Cora (and Rothbart)... I didn't want to directly copy the show, because the whole "love is weakness,... no it's strength..."thing was gold! I couldn't top it, or find a way to work it in that I was happy with, so I changed it... sorry... XD

Um, March is also a crazy month for assignments so um, sorry again.. but we're looking at an April update... *winces*


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